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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834209">Ornament &amp; Disgrace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit'>Ilthit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Milliner Mysteries [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1920s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Country House Party, F/F, F/M, Gen, Homophobic Language, Infidelity, Mystery, Poisoning, Reckless Endangerment, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, cozy mystery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:54:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Harrington-Thomases are lovely people, and Harriet Milliner is going to have a wonderful time at their daughter's engagement party, with absolutely no tripping over corpses or stolen jewels.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Detective On Vacation &amp; All The Potential Mysteries She Keeps Dodging (OW), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Milliner Mysteries [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Id Pro Quo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ornament &amp; Disgrace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts">DesertVixen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for DesertVixen as part of the IdProQuo exchange, but felt that it didn't quite match the tag unless you squinted, and so I wrote a sequel which does. That will be posted as a treat and as the second part of this series of mysteries. </p>
<p>Content warnings in the tags. Note: Homophobic language is used by a character, not agreed with by the text or author.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Shame is an ornament of the young; a disgrace of the old. </em><br/>–Aristotle</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>"Don't worry," Harriet Milliner told her cousin and professional wart, Teddy. "I am going to have a lovely time at the Harrington-Thomases'. Absolutely no corpses or stolen jewels or anything of the sort. Just perhaps a bit of croquet before tea, if the rain lets up."</p>
<p>"I am not worrying," drawled Teddy. "Merely wondering. You do tend to get caught up in other people's business, you know."</p>
<p>The two of them were sitting at the window of a London chocolatier's across from a soggy park. Harriet had her hot chocolate with whipped cream, as always, while Teddy had ordered his with coffee and tipped a generous amount of brandy in it as well, something Harriet considered a waste of perfectly good chocolate.</p>
<p>"Jane will be joining us on Friday," said Harriet. "Nothing can go terribly wrong with Jane around. She's ever so sensible."</p>
<p>"Well, that's a relief," said Teddy, sipping his chocolate and grimacing. "If someone does try to murder you again, good old Jane will be at hand to quickly and efficiently dispatch of the guilty party by some poison hitherto unknown to medical science."</p>
<p>"You young people, the way you talk." Harriet sighed. She was forty to Teddy's twenty-three, and though she had always considered herself a modern woman, perhaps she was still a little Victorian in sentiment for this spring of 1925. She donated to her charities without ever thinking of joining the Communists, drank less than her parents, never swore, and had no intention of bobbing her ample, still-dark hair anytime soon. She had, however, learned that admonishments of virtue, respect for one's elders and for one's cousins' sisters-in-law had little effect on these bright young things.</p>
<p>He had a point about Jane, though Harriet could not imagine her sister-in-law actually murdering anyone, even to avenge her. Jane Milliner had made it her business to learn the properties of every poisonous and medicinal plant and their effects on the body, an extension of her flirtation with medical science. An academic degree had not been in the cards for her, in the end, but she had turned into a wonderful gardener and illustrator, and a useful asset in Harriet's little hobby.</p>
<p>Every well-brought-up lady who has successfully raised her children to school-age (only one, in Harriet's case, but sufficiently male), and has consequently been left with nothing much to do, ought to find a hobby. Harriet's, though unconventional, had evolved naturally from her wide correspondence, many friendships, and the exercise in logic that her father, a mathematician, had insisted upon as a part of her education. It was likewise a Victorian sentiment to keep private matters private; and yet one could find out nearly anything about anybody if one spoke to enough people, and Harriet had cultivated the art of being terribly easy to talk to. It was the skill she had relied upon when one of her friends' daughters had gone missing from a cruise ship, and again when a young gentleman appeared to have misplaced his fiancée's diamond necklace, and yet again when an American heiress had fallen dead in the middle of a masked ball. After that incident, she no longer needed to push to get herself involved in a puzzle or a criminal investigation. These days, people—victims and detectives alike—came to her specifically.</p>
<p>Which had nothing at all to do with her planned weekend at the Harrington-Thomases' house in the country. They were respectable people and dear old friends, with absolutely no reason to be bumping anyone off, and she told Teddy as much. He merely shrugged and finished his chocolate cocktail.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The occasion of the party was to congratulate Miss Penelope Harrington-Thomas of her engagement to a Mr Kent, a vicar of good family and modest but respectable means, according to Penelope's mother, who also described him as a most charming young man. Harriet had decided to motor down on Thursday to be just in time to dress for dinner, and have the whole of Friday to enjoy before things got too formal. The rest of the weekend guests—intimate friends only, said Cora Harrington-Thomas, which could mean anything from twelve to fifty—would pile in throughout the day, to join a garden party on Saturday.</p>
<p>The early spring weather did not portend well for the projected garden party. It was chill and wet, and fat drops of rain pummeled down on the roof and windshield of Harriet's sensible Bentley. Harriet had not bothered with chauffeurs since she started going about without her husband Charles, who worried far too much about having a lady behind the wheel. Her maid, who sat in the back-seat quietly knitting, did not mind at all, and had been known to compliment Harriet's agility in taking a sharp turn.</p>
<p>The quiet country road rolled on underneath, between fields and flocks of wet sheep, until all of a sudden a loud roar appeared behind, deafening as it overtook them and sped off down the road ahead. "What in the world?" Harriet murmured as a much flashier car than hers disappeared into the misty carpet of rain. At this speed, it had been impossible to identify the make; the blur had appeared and vanished like a vanquishing angel.</p>
<p>"He'll end up in a ditch, that one," Gertrude remarked. Harriet tutted in agreement.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>"What dreadful weather," said Cora Harrington-Thomas. "I'm so glad you've come."</p>
<p>A tall and slim beauty, Cora had been at school with Harriet, and married barely out of the schoolroom. She had thrown herself into being grown-up and had, in the intervening years, mastered the art in a way that still sometimes eluded Harriet. They both had had the same carriage and manners drilled into them, but Cora managed to give the impression she had been born with the correct tilt of chin.</p>
<p>Harriet dropped her umbrella into the stick-stand as a footman hurried to help Gertrude with the luggage. "Ever so glad to be here at last," said Harriet. "I say, did you hear of a madman behind the wheel who may have run himself into a tree anywhere between here and Badgerton-on-the-Whit?"</p>
<p>Cora raised an elegant eyebrow. "Goodness. No, nothing of the sort. Although—"</p>
<p>"Ah, Harriet!" came a familiar cry from up the steps.</p>
<p>"Miss Wells!" Harriet replied with genuine pleasure. Brigid Wells held on to the banister as she descended the stairs, as straight-backed and nearly as slender as her niece Cora, but that was where the resemblance ended. Where Cora was as stiff and tall as a warship, Aunt Brigid was a small, agile pirate vessel at full sail, trailing silks far too young for her age and, at her mast, a tall and glorious mess of hair that was certainly not naturally that shade of red. Harriet did like her ever so much.</p>
<p>"Finally someone sensible." Miss Wells sailed past Cora to drop a continental kiss on Harriet's cheek. "I have been stuck here for months, my dear—months! —chasing my muse, with no plays to see and only family for company." She sighed and fluttered her lashes closed.</p>
<p>"I do hope the book is coming along, at least?" Harriet noted Cora stiffening further at the corner of her eye. It seemed Miss Wells' book wasn't equally anticipated by all.</p>
<p>"Oh yes, darling. I am very nearly finished. It will be quite the, ah, what do the young people say? Cat's whiskers? Bee's knees?"</p>
<p>"Teddy seems to prefer 'hot stuff'."</p>
<p>Miss Wells broke into a cackle. "It is certainly that."</p>
<p>Cora cleared her throat. "Harriet, dear, you must be cold and exhausted. Bastillon will show you to your room."</p>
<p>Harriet knew when she was being dismissed. She and Miss Wells exchanged apologetic smiles as she followed the French butler to lead her upstairs. There would be plenty of time to catch up.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Harriet's room was one she had stayed in over several other visits and could find no fault in. This part of the house had been renovated to be nearly as comfortable and warm as a townhouse, with its sturdy new windows and renewed piping. Her room was papered in a dark wine-red and the view opened up over the lawn, with the rose garden right below. In summer, she could open her window and lean out to breathe in the intoxicating scent of the flowers and the sound of birdsong first thing in the morning. Now it was too early in April for the blooms however, and the branches lay dark and tangled below on their white curving trellises.</p>
<p>Harriet washed her face and hands in the small attached bathroom while Gertrude laid out her things. She trusted Gertrude's taste, at least as long as she still held her good will; the maid could get petty whenever she was displeased with her mistress, and then Harriet could expect unfashionable hairstyles, and for the colours of her laid-out gloves and shoes to clash.</p>
<p>She sat herself down at the vanity and considered the best make-up to account for both age and dignity, as well as modern tastes. A touch of lipstick, she decided, would be just the thing to set off Cora and please Miss Wells. Anything more would be inviting one of Mr Harrington-Thomas's little jokes, which absolutely nobody wanted. James was an old darling, so long as one kept reminding him one was a person and not a music-hall character.</p>
<p>She donned Gertrude's choice of a bronze, shimmery gown with golden highlights, a pearl pin in the shape of dewy leaves, and a looping pearl necklace to match. Harriet considered adding a diamond brooch to her decolletage, but found it clashed overmuch with the gold and the pearls, and merely had Gertrude affix a pin on the inside to bring the neckline slightly higher. The consideration of James had not left her mind.</p>
<p>It turned out she need not have worried. In the drawing room, milling about the old-fashioned furniture or gathered around the warmth of the Georgian fireplace, waiting for the dinner gong, she found most of the people she'd expected, but no James.</p>
<p>Penelope was there, looking a little peaky in her green loose gown, but still very pretty, her lipstick a vibrant red streak mirrored on the rim of her glass of tonic. Next to her was what must be her fiancé, a tall and somewhat confused-looking gentleman in a dog-collar that reminded Harriet forcibly of a schnauzer puppy. Across from them was—ah, what was her name? Harriet searched her memory, but it came up blank—a rather sour-looking young woman who had bobbed her mousy hair in the most unattractive fashion and kept pushing her glasses back up her nose. Her gown was at least five seasons out of date, and she had hidden it under a tasseled scarf that was rather clearly not hers. Penelope's, Harriet guessed with a touch of sympathy, loaned as a last minute attempt to hide the shortcomings of the dress.</p>
<p>Cora held court at the couch, pouring tea for Mr Bennington, the village vicar—Mr Kent's vicarage was not the one in the gift of the Harrington-Thomases. It did not surprise Harriet that Penny would marry outside of the county. She never did seem to like sticking around longer than she had to. She was a lovely, giving girl, really, but she had some of her great-aunt Brigid's spitfire, and it did not suit her to be buried in the countryside. Harriet did wonder…</p>
<p>The last guest surprised her most of all. Aunt Brigid moved aside with a flurry of out-flung arms, revealing the person she had been speaking to. "Teddy!" cried Harriet.</p>
<p>"Hullo, coz," said Teddy, and held his cocktail up at her.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>"My dear," said Jane, squeezing Harriet's hand, "tell me everything."</p>
<p>Harriet's sister-in-law was dressed almost as plainly as the poor relation from the night before—Ginny Thomas, that had been her name, a third cousin twice removed or something of sort on James' side—but in much better quality. Her crisp grey dress was made to last, and the tweed jacket over it eminently sensible. Harriet drank in her thin and angular solidness with accustomed pleasure and plopped herself down onto the rose garden bench. "Where to begin?"</p>
<p>The weather was a little improved today, and though the company had decided against croquet, the group of young people who had arrived early that morning, having apparently driven through the night on a whim after cocktails at a London club, thought it appropriate enough for a liquid picnic at the folly. The Harrington-Thomases had inherited the Roman monstrosity from James' grandfather, who had had the wherewithal to order a ruin with a roof attached, so not even the return of rain would drive the youth indoors before dinner. Harriet explained all this to Jane in a low conversational tone.</p>
<p>"I should have recognized Teddy's driving style when he passed me on the road," she said. "That boy cannot be trusted behind a wheel."</p>
<p>"Or trusted at all," Jane put in. "Not the noblest flower of our breed. Was he even invited?"</p>
<p>Harriet shook her head. "One would assume so, but he never mentioned it to me." Teddy had been moody and combative over breakfast, and Harriet had not pressed. She moved on. "James is missing in action. Cora said he is taking a cure, and offered no further details. I believe Miss Wells tried to tell me the truth once or twice, but her niece is watching her like a hawk."</p>
<p>"Drink," Jane declared. "It's always drink."</p>
<p>"Perhaps." Harriet had never known James to be a heavy drinker, but it would not have been the first time such a malady had been successfully hidden. "Penny's fiancé, I believe, has not joined the young fools in their folly, but is taking Mr Bennington on a walk around the grounds. He seems rather at home here for a two-week engagement, I must say—but then I understand he and Penelope have known each other since they were children."</p>
<p>"Does he seem like a good match for her, then?"</p>
<p>Harriet shook her head, but offered no further analysis. An unpleasant thought was forming. "Do you know, Teddy had the idea that this weekend would end up in my casebook. I told him not to be ridiculous. But…"</p>
<p>Jane finally sat down next to her on the bench, and placed a sympathetic hand on Harriet's knee. "You know what I always say. Think no ill—"</p>
<p>"—and no ill shall you ever prevent," Harriet finished for her. "I know." Jane was quick to think the worst of people, and while it did not make her popular, she was often quite correct. Her heart, Harriet believed, was in the right place. Harriet changed the subject. "We are expecting the Willises, the Thompson-Basreds, and the Smiths for dinner, though not earlier. I'm afraid it is a terrible time for James to be absent—people will talk, even if the gathering is still somewhat intimate."</p>
<p>"When is the wedding due?"</p>
<p>"To be announced. As I expect Miss Wells' book will be, very soon. It is to be loosely based on real events, I hear—a family history."</p>
<p>Harriet fell still again, thinking. Was Jane right? Should she think uncommon ill of people—to prevent even worse? Or would meddling only ruin poor Cora's weekend? Harriet's old friend had so been hoping that Penelope would make a suitable match.</p>
<p>Either way, decisions would have to be made soon.</p>
<p>Harriet bid Jane goodbye as a light drizzle began to patter down upon the trellises and retired up to her room. Gertrude had unpacked her luggage and, as always, set her notebook in the top right-hand drawer of the writing desk. Harriet took it out now, running her fingers along the leather spine and the cover embossed with flower patterns, and then opened it on a fresh page and dipped her pen.</p>
<p>At the top of the page, she wrote, 'Miss Harrington-Thomas's engagement party'. Below, she made a list of names. On the left side of the page, just below the title, she wrote 'Secrets'.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Harriet hung up the hall telephone. "There you are."</p>
<p>"Here I am," agreed Teddy, running a hand through his wet hair. Behind him, other more or less bedraggled young people shook themselves dry, leaving puddles on the marble floor. She saw Penny depart from the arm of Ginny Thomas, who was busy closing up a sturdy Selfridge's umbrella.</p>
<p>The skies had opened not long after Harriet, Mr Bennington and Mr Kent had returned to the house. She had caught up with them on the willowed path following the stream that cut through the grounds, deep in conversation about medieval demonology. Mr Bennington had been excited, flushed; Mr Kent agitated—one supposed these were typical effects of the subject on enthusiasts. Both had switched the conversation to the weather upon noticing her approach, and soon turned back towards the house after she had refused to be gently shaken off.</p>
<p>Water was pouring down now with a gusto that would cause comment in the Highlands. It made one expect a roll of thunder at any moment, but for now nature was still holding off on any such dramatics.</p>
<p>"Goodness," remarked Harriet without much sympathy to her young cousin, "you do look like something the cat dragged in."</p>
<p>"Stuff it, Harry." Teddy scowled. "I just need a snifter. You should make sure Penny gets warm and dry."</p>
<p>Harriet raised both eyebrows. "Penny seems to have fared better than you." Indeed, her glossy hair was dry, as were her shoulders, though Harriet suspected she could use a new pair of shoes and some fresh warm socks. Two young men and a young woman rushed past, giggling, wet as dogs and clearly still tipsy, leaving a trail of droplets on the grand staircase.</p>
<p>"Yes, but <em>she's—</em>" Teddy cut himself off. "Just get her dry, will you, you meddling old goose?" With that outburst, he stalked away in the direction of the drawing room and its drinks cabinet.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Penelope Harrington-Thomas sank into an arm-chair in the library with an unladylike grunt, and propped her newly-reshoed feet upon a pouffe. "I don't know why I agree to these things, especially since the spring has been so awfully wet," she complained. "I'm afraid, Mrs Milliner, that I am tired and cranky and will say something disagreeable at any moment."</p>
<p>"That's quite all right, my dear." Harriet ignored the unspoken suggestion that she leave, and instead took a seat in the opposite arm-chair with an air of determination. "One cannot blame you young people for being social; in my day, it was considered an obligation."</p>
<p>Penelope rested the back of her head against the chair's velvet upholstery and squeezed her eyes shut. She did look rather wan to Harriet's eye. "I suspect the reason is not that strange," she said gently. "One can get rather tired of the company of one's relatives, shut away in the country like this."</p>
<p>"What do you know about it?" Penelope snapped. "You with your houses in London and Edinburgh, and that place you rent in Italy every summer. It is supposed to be the modern age, but for girls like myself it might as well be the Middle Ages."</p>
<p>"Surely it isn't that bad…"</p>
<p>"It is that bad and worse, I assure you." Penelope sat up, heat rising to her cheeks. "I suppose I should feel lucky I was allowed to achieve the ancient age of twenty-one without being married off. It is the only way out of this house, and I am taking it."</p>
<p>Harriet raised her eyebrows. "An escape to a vicarage?"</p>
<p>"Yes! No!" Penelope threw herself back against the arm-chair. "Oh, I don't know! Leave me alone, Aunt Harriet. I feel awful."</p>
<p>Harriet rose to her feet, but only to lean over and take Penelope's hands in her own. "Up, girl. Out of that chair. We need to get you changed and warmed up. Perhaps a nice bath—certainly a hot water bottle and bout in bed. Come now."</p>
<p>Penelope allowed herself to be coaxed up and led up the staircase with only a few more complaints. A word aside to a maid soon had Penelope's lady's maid hurrying up with the necessaries, and Harriet left her in the girl's capable hands.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>As Harriet made her way down the stairs, a distant susurrus through an open window in the hallway resolved itself into the sound of an approaching motor-car. The rain had let up as quickly as it had begun and left the lawn a soggy mess, and the air smelling damp. She leaned out to see a black Nash Touring swerve around the fountain and park sideways across from the door. From her position, she could see only the top of the hats of both the driver and the man he held the door open for, but it was not difficult to make out the carriage and style of Mr James Harrington-Thomas.</p>
<p>"Perhaps the doctors ran out of medicine," Harriet murmured under her breath, thinking of both Cora and Jane's explanations for his absence. She closed the window quietly and made her way sedately down the steps. One could not access the drawing room or the yard from her current position without overhearing whatever went on in the hall.</p>
<p>Sharp steps echoed hers on the other side of the wall—the servants' stairs, Harriet realized—and she heard a door open and close. "James!" called Cora's strained voice. Harriet slowed down to a crawl. "What are you doing here? Are you—I told everyone you were with your doctors."</p>
<p>"Madam," said James coldly, "you cannot expect me not to come and investigate this vicar you've conjured up. Vicars aren't all angels, you know, and it takes a man to get the measure of a man. Where's the girl? Where's our Penny?"</p>
<p>"Have you not done enough damage?" Cora hissed. "You have forfeited your right to have any say in Penny's life, or mine—"</p>
<p>"I am her father!"</p>
<p>"Shh, shh… Not so loud. We have guests."</p>
<p>Harriet made sure her last footsteps fell both heavy and fast as she rounded the corner. Cora looked up, and for a moment her eyes were wide and wild like a trapped animal's. She quickly composed herself, casting those beautiful eyes down on the floor.</p>
<p>"Goodness!" Harriet put on her best astonished face. "James! What a pleasure."</p>
<p>James's round, convivial face still held some uncharacteristic hardness as his moustache vibrated into a smile. "Harriet, old girl. Lovely as ever." He held his hands out to her as she descended the last stairs. She consented to let him clasp hers between them, smiling back. Cora's husband was nearly two decades her elder, but there was a robustness to him that made Harriet wonder how anyone could think he was in need of a cure.</p>
<p>"You do look well," she said. "I'm ever so glad. I have been so hoping you would show up after all. I have an industrial investment I'd like you to look at. My man of business says it is sound--"</p>
<p>"Oh?" The moustache vibrated more intensely. "Not in India, I hope?"</p>
<p>"Oh, no, not in India. Birmingham."</p>
<p>"James, darling, you must be tired," Cora cut in, touching her husband's arm. James flinched, and for a moment it looked he might rebel.</p>
<p>"Of course," Harriet said quickly. "So silly of me. We will catch up later."</p>
<p>James grunted and let himself be led up the stairs. Harriet glanced behind her, at the shadow of a valet picking up suitcases from the silent driver, and ahead, noticing the small face of a maid peeking from around the corner deeper into the house. There were ears everywhere in a house like this; that, and hallways, and escape routes, and hiding holes. Everyone simply disappeared into it whenever they wished, and one had to position oneself especially to make oneself available for company. Thank goodness for dinner-time, thought Harriet, and stole a glance at her pocket-watch. There were a few more hours to go before it was time to gather. She slipped into the drawing room: it was as likely a place as any to sit and think.</p>
<p>"Miss Thomas," she said with surprise as she entered. The girl spun around, startled out of a contemplation of the grey weather outside the tall French windows. She was still wrapped in the same scarf from yesterday, though her day-clothes, simple and mended as they were, were even more of a mismatch to the bright oriental embroidery than her worn evening dress had been.</p>
<p>Ginny's brows sank, and her lips drew back from her teeth, before being pressed tightly together again. It struck Harriet how differently Cora had reacted to being startled—one had looked hunted, the other predatory, before both controlled their expressions. "Mrs Milliner. It isn't a social hour yet, is it?"</p>
<p>"No, not at all." Harriet said, and closed the door behind her. "I suppose you must have overheard—James is back."</p>
<p>"I saw his car." Ginny raised her chin, and suddenly Harriet did see the resemblance in carriage, if not in feature, to her old school-chum. "I didn't <em>hear</em> a thing—I've only just come in." She waived her umbrella in the direction of the yard. "I needed fresh air, and a little quiet, but I do not trust the sky, so I came back in."</p>
<p>"So I see." Ginny's boots were wet, with blades of grass still clinging to them, and the room smelled of that same damp Harriet had tasted in the air through the open hallway window.</p>
<p>"I suppose I'll have to bother someone to open the window in my room. They are all locked up, as if they had burglars climbing in at all hours in this place. It is ridiculous. You'd see a burglar coming a mile away across all that useless lawn."</p>
<p>"One can never be too careful," said Harriet mildly.</p>
<p>"Anyway, who cares if they get burgled," said Ginny darkly. "They can afford it." But Harriet was looking at a bottle of brandy on the side-table, the tinsel paper around it's wooden cork unravelled and scattered in glittering pieces on the mahogany.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>"Yes, I see," said Jane.</p>
<p>"Smell it," said Harriet.</p>
<p>Ginny Thomas had left after Harriet suggested Penelope may want company in her recovery from the wet weather. Jane had fortunately been tromping about the hydrangeas outside, and a spot of frantic waving and quiet yoo-hooing and had brought her over to the French windows. Now Jane took her gloves from her pocket and pulled them on, then picked up the bottle and uncorked it. She sniffed it, once and again, and then nodded.</p>
<p>"There is something in it, isn't there? I saw the opened bottle—"</p>
<p>"A full bottle—and not a single glass's worth drained. So why was it opened?"</p>
<p>"So, what do you think?" Harriet very much hoped it was merely her paranoia, a consequence of being involved in too many criminal cases.</p>
<p>"Most poisons are odorless." Jane took a glass from the cabinet and poured some brandy in it, rolling it around and sniffing it once again. Harriet cried out as Jane put her tongue out and touched it to the liquid. Jane spat. "You were right. There is something in it. My guess? Arsenic. Available in every pantry in England, and not a pretty death. Of course, most murderers either don't know that or don't care."</p>
<p>Harriet sank into a chair. A bottle of poisoned brandy, left out here for anybody to notice and drink from. Anybody might have picked it up and poured themselves a glass. "I know these people. I just… I cannot believe any of them would actually… I must think, Jane."</p>
<p>Jane nodded again, poured the liquid back into the bottle with impressive precision, and replaced the cork. "Think fast," she suggested, as she put the brandy back down where it had stood.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The rain returned with a vengeance, covering the sky not only in oppressive grey but bruise-black. The thunder that had hovered in the air earlier that day erupted in slow staccato of crashes and rumbles. The Thompson-Basreds, who lived only a short dirve away, called to cancel; the Willises telephoned from a roadside inn they had taken refuge in, and the Smiths simply failed to turn up. "Perhaps their line was cut," Cora offered, seated in the drawing room in her green velvet gown, pearls artfully arranged around her neck and headdress. She sat up straight on the loveseat, her makeup perhaps a touch heavier than usual.</p>
<p>The electricity had so far survived without so much as a flickering light, but Harriet had seen maids hurrying into the dining room with extra candlesticks, if only as a safeguard. The old house groaned and whistled as the wind trashed its windows and the rain beat against its walls. Teddy sat at the piano and tinkled out a tune. One of the young ladies joined him in a popular duet, her fragile soprano and his refined tenor defiant against the storm.</p>
<p>Penelope looked much better, though she still waved away the cocktail that the other young man—oh, these gatecrashers, Harriet ought to have learned their names—tried to push into her hand. Ginny Thomas hovered near in a pretty pink dress that Harriet was sure she had seen on Penny before. Mr Kent sat by the window, seemingly at a loss, on the very opposite side of the room from his fiancée, casting her looks Harriet did not attempt to read while James spoke to him, a steady stream of confidential murmurs.</p>
<p>An opened bottle of brandy stood on the mantelpiece, having so far eluded the notice of the young man with the cocktails. "Have you tried a Scofflaw?" he said to Penny. "It's an absolute topper. I learned it from this fellow in Amsterdam. You take whiskey, lemon juice, a shot of strawberry syrup—"</p>
<p>"Raspberry," Ginny Thomas put in.</p>
<p>"I am quite sure it was strawberry."</p>
<p>"And you need brandy—"</p>
<p>Jane shot Harriet a look from her position near the mantelpiece.</p>
<p>"Dry Vermouth," Ginny said coldly. "I don't know what you are describing, but if you sold it as a Scofflaw in London you'd be fired on the spot."</p>
<p>"I'm not a <em>bartender</em>," said the young man, offended.</p>
<p>Harriet sucked in the inside of her lower lip, glancing back at Jane. The trap they had set had yet to be sprung, and she really hadn't thought through what she would do if it never was. The dinner gong was about to ring at any moment.</p>
<p>Mr Bennington, the village vicar, stared out the window in fascination as thunder rolled and a flash of light lit up the lawn. Miss Wells cried out. "Heavens! It's like a bomber raid out there!" Harriet winced. It was a tasteless thing to say, so soon after they had been through a war, but discretion had never been one of Miss Wells's charms. "I think I need something stiffer. James, darling, stop interrogating that poor young fool and fetch me a brandy."</p>
<p>James looked put off, but a direct request from a lady in front of guests could not be ignored. He affected grace, dusted off his knees and headed for the fireplace—</p>
<p>"No!" Cora shot up out of her seat, holding her hand out. "James, please—not that bottle."</p>
<p>"Why the devil not?" said James, snatching it in his hand.</p>
<p>"It—it is opened. The flavour will have suffered."</p>
<p>"Brandy isn't wine, madam. Look, it's perfectly fine—" James lifted the bottle to his lips, and two people moved at once. Harriet, taking a brisk step towards the man, and Cora, seconds faster, crashing into her husband and knocking the brandy out of his hand. The bottle hit the embroidered carpet and the neck broke, spilling golden brown liquid across the floor and splashing against the foot of the fireplace.</p>
<p>Jane stood stock-still in her place, watching the scene like a snake. Mr Kent and Teddy had both sprung from their seats and joined Ginny in a protective circle around Penny. She stood on her tippy-toes to peer over their shoulders. Mr Bennington took a long drink from his glass of soda and sherry, at last distracted from nature's display. Miss Wells had gently rested her wrinkled hand on her long string of pearls.</p>
<p>"Cora! What the devil?" James held his wife's elbows as she crumbled against him, fingers clutching his coat.</p>
<p>"I didn't mean it," she confessed in a broken voice. "I only meant—I was so angry, but I never meant—"</p>
<p>Harriet stepped up to the couple and gently removed Cora from James, letting her rest her head on her shoulder as she began to sob, smearing her mascara on Harriet's neck. Harriet's heart broke like cracking ice. She had never believed it of Cora—she still didn't. "Shh, now, dear. I think I can explain everything."</p>
<p>"She's mad!" James hissed. "That's all this is. Obsessed, selfish..."</p>
<p>"Sit down, James," said Harriet in a voice she had first learned from her nanny and later employed on men across the country, from her son to the minister of finance. James found an armchair and sat down.</p>
<p>"There are a great many secrets in this room," she began as the room fell quiet. Miss Wells nodded. "And I rather think, given that we are among friends and family, the provision of privacy in the home ought to be extended to the present company. We are all involved—with perhaps the exception of young, ah—"</p>
<p>"Eggster," said the young man with the cocktails.</p>
<p>"Bunny," said the girl with the fragile soprano.</p>
<p>"Quite. As I was saying, I do rather believe that some secrets are best aired out. Secrets are the guardians of shame, and shame, when left to rot, leads to fear and despair—and to desperate acts… to the very edge of the worst kind of outrage."</p>
<p>"Are you saying that brandy was poisoned?" Mr Kent bleated.</p>
<p>Teddy, who had put his arm around Penny, while Ginny embraced her from the other side, scowled and grunted. "Murder, again? This is getting rather ridiculous, Harry." He really was a terrible young man.</p>
<p>Cora still clung to Harriet's side, but her sobs had quieted into gulps. Harriet petted her side. All eyes were on the two of them. "The murder of two people, I think," said Harriet, and gently lifted Cora's face. "Darling, you must have been so afraid."</p>
<p>"I—no—not two. Only myself. And maybe—I was so angry."</p>
<p>"So angry that you would frame your husband for your own murder?"</p>
<p>She kept her eyes on Cora, as her old school chum raised herself up and dabbed her streaked face with her gloved hands. Mr Bennington quietly handed her a handkerchief. "I had not decided. I had not thought things through. I… A part of me wished he did really murder me. A terrible fantasy, an arsenic poisoning like in those silly books. It would release me and absolve my own soul, and punish him… but he didn't. He just left me." Cora drew in a shuddering breath. "I put rat poison from the pantry in the brandy and I let it just sit there, thinking about drinking it. Thinking about James pouring me a glass, and how gratefully I would accept it. And then… and then he actually showed up, as if my thoughts had conjured him. And I forgot all about the bottle."</p>
<p>"It isn't the first time he's left us," Penelope interjected sharply. "Taking a cure, my foot! He would be gone another few months, traipsing about in Europe or beyond, and return for another awful month or two."</p>
<p>"Not this time," Cora said. "He… He filed for divorce."</p>
<p>Miss Wells nodded grimly. "I've seen the papers. He consulted me on them. I was for it! I have known James for decades, and I've written more about him than he'd like. I thought perhaps if only Cora read my book, she would she there wasn't much to mourn over what was always a rotten match."</p>
<p>"I object to that," said James loudly. "I am not the only one to blame here. She—!"</p>
<p>"Shush, James," said Harriet, and James shushed.</p>
<p>"How? How am I supposed to live with the shame?" Cora broke down in fresh tears, her jaw tight and trembling as she pressed Mr Bennington's handkerchief to her face.</p>
<p>"Plenty of shame to go around," said Miss Wells, wandering to the drinks cabinet. "It was only that one bottle, right?"</p>
<p>"Of course!" Jane scoffed. "Pick an unopened one, if you are not convinced."</p>
<p>Miss Wells shrugged and poured herself a cognac.</p>
<p>"She's right," Harriet said. "Perhaps Penelope has something to say?"</p>
<p>Penelope stiffened.</p>
<p>"No? Teddy, then?"</p>
<p>"I say, what's this?" asked Mr Kent, the vicar, stepping away from his fiancée and staring down at her.</p>
<p>"All right," said Penny, her cheeks flushed. "I might as well say it. I'm in the family way, and the father isn't a suitable match. That's why my mother pushed me on poor Arthur. It isn't fair on him and it isn't fair on me. But what could I do? I cannot have a back-alley abortion like some other girls."</p>
<p>Mr Kent stood back from her as if slapped.</p>
<p>"It's mine," Teddy declared angrily, "and I'd marry her tomorrow at the registrar's if only she said yes." Penny rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>"I don't think they open on the week-end, dear," Harriet pointed out, "but I do admire your spirit."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Arthur," Penelope said to Mr Kent, who shook his head and turned away.</p>
<p>"I knew, I suppose…" He had a soft baritone with a pleasing timbre; it likely sounded very fine on the pulpit. "It was always too good to be true. You've never thought of me the way I thought of you."</p>
<p>"Penny will never marry <em>you</em>," Ginny spat at Teddy. "You're at my club every other night with a different floozy, getting plastered and talking dirt. And don't think you're off the hook just because everyone knows about the baby now. That's not the only secret of yours I could spill—"</p>
<p>"That's enough," said Harriet.</p>
<p>Teddy pointed a finger at Ginny. "Did you know this little <em>lesbian</em> has been blackmailing half the—"</p>
<p>"I said <em>enough</em>."</p>
<p>The room fell silent. Cora drew a ragged breath.</p>
<p>"As your dear auntie said," Miss Wells piped up, lifting her glass at the room. "Plenty of shame for everyone. No need to hog it all, dear girl."</p>
<p>"So far, none of you have murdered anyone, and that's a blessing," said Harriet tightly, "or I would have had to eat my hat, because I was quite sure not one of you would."</p>
<p>She allowed the statement to sink in, and then continued more gently. "Cora, you always tried too hard to be good. James—you are rather a slave to your impulses, good and bad, but I know you would not hurt a fly. Remember when that hunting dog you inherited from your father broke both back legs? You don't even hunt, and that dog grew old and fat by your fireside. Penelope, dear—I know you have been giving Miss Thomas your things… and Miss Thomas, we are not well acquainted, I know, but you seem to reserve all your hatred for those who have an excess of good fortune… and your love for those who are unhappy." She turned to Teddy, opened her mouth, considered, closed it, and sniffed. "My point is, by God! You are good people! Talk to one another! It is a new age, isn't it? None of these secrets are worth dying for. Some of them may even be worth living for."</p>
<p>Penelope touched her belly, fingertips brushing against the brocade of her dress.</p>
<p>Into the silence, a dinner gong rang out.</p>
<p>Cora had finished wiping her face, removing every trace of makeup in the process. It made her look somehow younger, and tired. "I suppose we mustn't disappoint the cook."</p>
<p>Silence followed them into the dining room, where candles complemented the low electric light, and portraits of James's past relatives cast doubtful glances at the diners from beyond the gulf of time. Slowly conversation picked up again, from a comment on the consistency of the soup (most acceptable) to the odd remark on the weather, which seemed to be easing up, judging by the receding thunder-rolls. Small talk filled the room.</p>
<p>Miss Wells leaned closer to Harriet. "How did you know?"</p>
<p>"I made a few calls earlier today." Harriet kept her voice low. It was better everyone be allowed the relief of pretending everything was back to normal. "I learned that James had been staying at the house in Bath. I only suspected it was serious this time because I also heard he had contacted a solicitor—we share a firm, so it was not difficult to find out."</p>
<p>"I rang him earlier and asked him to come home," Miss Wells confessed. "I thought he ought to be here, and that if he was, it might all get solved somehow. I waited for him this afternoon by the window…"</p>
<p>"And left when you heard me on the stairs?"</p>
<p>"Quite so—through the servants' stairs… I didn't want Cora to know it wasn't James's idea. He will always be Penelope's father, no matter what."</p>
<p>"Perhaps a little less intrigue around the house would do everyone good."</p>
<p>Miss Wells barked a laugh. "You may be right. I'm not at all sure you've solved everything tonight, but this was a good start. It is good for them to air things out. Maybe now we can finally figure out what to do with that baby."</p>
<p>"Oh, I already know," said Penny breezily. Harriet had been aware of her bright eyes on her neck for a while now. That girl always did have the most devilish hearing. "Harrow. It's a sensible distance, and a very good school for cricket."</p>
<p>"What if it's a girl?" asked Jane, asparagus on fork.</p>
<p>"Oh, Deepdean, I suppose. And tennis."</p>
<p>Conversation erupted around the table in defense of Eton and Rugby, and Harriet sat back in her chair, feeling the tension that had gathered at the nape of her neck ease at last.</p>
<p>The Harrington-Thomases were, after all, respectable people, and dear old friends, and they were all—finally—going to have a perfectly lovely time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>~ The End ~</em>
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